You wanna make van goghs
Raise em up like sheep

Make em out of eskimos

And women if you please

Make em nice and normal

Make em nice and neat

You see him with his shotgun there

Bloodied in the wheat

Oh what do you know about

Living in turbulent indigo

Brash fields, crude crows

In a scary sky

In a golden frame

Roped off

Tourists guided by

Tourists talking about the madhouse
Talking about the ear

The madman hangs in fancy homes

They wouldnt let him near
Hed piss in their fireplace
Hed drag them through turbulent indigo

Im a burning hearth, he said

People see the smoke

But no one to comes warm themselves

Sloughing off a coat

And all my little landscapes
All my yellow afternoons

Stack up around this vacancy
Like dirty cups and spoons
No mercy sweet jesus
No mercy from turbulent indigo